As the Captain spoke, they plunged aboard the ship, and the carriage, bounding after them, overturned on the deck--horses and carriage came down together in a welter of splintering wheels and broken harness and crashing wood.
A negro driver, whom Cleggett now noticed for the first time, shot clear of the mass and landed on the deck in a sitting posture.
For a moment, there he sat, and did nothing more.

The pole broke loose from the carriage, the traces parted, and the two big white horses, still kicking and plunging, struggled to their feet and free from the wreckage.

Still side by side they leaped the port bulwark, splashed into the canal, and swam straight across it, as if animated with the instinct of going straight ahead in that fashion to the end of the world.

Cleggett never saw or heard of them again.
"Bring a lantern," said Cleggett to Abernethy.

"Let's see if this man is badly hurt." But the negro was not injured.